


Heart in the Whole

by floorcoaster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floorcoaster/pseuds/floorcoaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco pulls Hermione's name for a Secret Santa exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart in the Whole

**Author's Note:**

> First, thank you to whoever nominated me to write for this fest. It was an honor and great fun to write, especially since I've been off the radar for awhile now. 
> 
> Many thanks to inadaze22 for the fabulous brainstorming session at the 11th hour to kick this story into a gear worth reading. Thanks also to dormiensa and rzzmg for the fabulous beta work, and to rzzmg for the britpick. And finally, again to inadaze22, for the final read through and the hours spent chatting and texting. And also for the title. I am so not good with titles. MWAH.

Snow crunched under his boots as he walked toward her, his hands shoved in his pockets. He hadn't bothered to grab his own cloak, thinking surely she wouldn't be outside in the freezing snow. And yet that was where Draco found her, leaning on the large, stone balcony that overlooked the grounds. 

He'd grown weary of the loud, surprisingly raucous Hogwarts staff Christmas party, and he had yet to play Secret Santa to his giftee. She hadn't noticed him, so he stared at her for a moment, a rare picture of the woman at ease. She was bundled in a heavy cloak that wasn't quite clasped in front, and she held a gaudy holiday mug. The snow was falling gently around her, flakes lighting in her hair. Despite the freezing temperature, she seemed at ease, the result of a Warming Charm, no doubt. 

All was silent but for the very distant sound of revelry.

He clenched a fist, attempting to allay his pulsing nerves as he started toward her.

She turned her head slightly at his approach before sighing dramatically.

Draco joined the witch who'd spent the last two months captivating him. He leaned his arms on the railing, a comfortable distance between them. When she said nothing for a few minutes, Draco pulled a simply wrapped package from his pocket and held it out to her.

Hermione chuckled as she took it, hefting it in her hands, even shaking it. "A book, Malfoy? I'm disappointed in your practicality."

Draco fought a frown. "I thought for sure I couldn't go wrong." It wasn’t just a book, though, so he didn’t know exactly how to react.

She stared at the gift a moment, then took a sip from her drink.

"Hot chocolate?" he asked, wishing he’d thought to bring something warm for himself.

"With rum. Mostly rum." She frowned at the contents of her mug. 

“Festive,” he said dryly, quirking an eyebrow.

“’Tis the season,” she replied bitterly, tipping back another swallow. 

“I know imbibing copious amounts of alcohol is considered tradition by some, but I wasn’t aware you were one of them,” he teased.

Hermione shrugged morosely. “I’m not. It … it’s just been a day. A bad one.”

“What's got you so down, then?" he prodded, gently elbowing her arm. 

She shrugged again and took another sip. "So who drew your name?"

He scowled at her lack of answer and about the ridiculous forced gift exchange. "I suspect that Minerva didn't bother putting my name in, knowing no one would want to get it. She has supposedly drawn my name five years in a row, now. This year, she gave me a snow globe."

She grimaced. "The bane of the Secret Santa recipient. At least it wasn't a candle or lotion. That's what I usually end up with, anyway."

After a moment, his nerves so on end that his stomach could only be in literal knots, Draco nudged her arm with his. "Are you going to open it?"

Hermione frowned at the package, turning it over in her hands. The paper was plain red with silver ribbon. He'd wrapped it with excruciating care, every corner precisely folded. He'd been nervous getting her this book—this gift—and the next few moments would answer the questions he hadn’t dared to ask.

She chuckled wryly. "You know, I only took this job at Minerva's request. She had to ask me multiple times before I said yes." She shook her head with a heavy sigh. "I couldn't possibly take off the time required to teach Arithmancy for the year. I thought my job at the Ministry was too important, thought I was doing really significant work. I actually once believed that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was more about fair regulation than control." Hermione set her mug on the wide stone railing and reached into her cloak, producing a piece of parchment and handing it to him. Retrieving her mug, she took a long swig of her drink.

Draco opened the letter and skimmed it, anger growing with each line as he read of her dismissal. "That's bollocks, Granger." He held it out to her, but she waved him off. He pulled out his wand and held it to the paper. "May I?"

Hermione looked at him, surprised, but nodded.

He lit the parchment on fire and dropped it into the snow, using a special flame that would still burn despite being wet. Once the letter was ashes, he shivered and turned around to lean his back on the rail, then cast a Warming Charm on himself.

"They have no right to sack you," he said angrily.

She scoffed. "My Department ‘is no longer necessary’, Malfoy," she recited bitterly. "‘Due to budget considerations, lack of efficiency’—as if the whole bloody Ministry isn't a proof text in inefficiency—and a general nobody-bloody-cares attitude, we no longer want you around making us all feel mildly uncomfortable and infinitesimally guilty."

He laughed lowly. "Sod them, Granger."

For a moment, all he could hear was the falling snow.

Then she laughed, a pure, open and heartfelt sound that warmed him better than the charm.

"Fabulous response, Draco. I’ve imagined walking into my boss’ office and saying just that. I’m afraid I just can’t be quite so cavalier about the career I'd built, the lives I'd planned to impact for the better ...." Her voice drifted to a whisper. "The importance I'd placed on my life, my existence. If I don't have that, then what _do_ I have?"

Draco watched her absently run her fingers over the silver ribbon on the gift, her gaze somewhere else entirely.

"I'm not sure I can be happy just ... existing in this world," she continued. "Before magic, I wanted to be a doctor, or a scientist, and do something to better the world. Finding out I was a witch, well, that was the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me." She shifted her weight, frustration evident in her bearing. "I thought I'd be a Healer or an Unspeakable. But then when I learned about the policies involving other Magical Beings, I thought I'd truly found where I was supposed to be. Fighting for those who didn't have a voice." Her knuckles were white as she gripped the book. "I guess I was wrong."

Draco wasn't quite sure what to think or say. This was certainly not how he’d anticipated this portion of the evening going. The resolution of his frayed nerves hinged on Granger opening that book. Sure, the two of them had become something like friends in the months since school had begun, and they'd even surprisingly banded together on a few issues that had come up, but this pouring out she was doing was new. 

He didn’t know what he was doing. Sure, he’d decided he wanted to kiss her after the Halloween party at Longbottom’s house two months prior. She’d dressed in a ridiculous dinosaur costume—for Teddy, she’d said—that came complete with tiny arms. He’d watched her ineffectually go for a glass of punch for a few minutes before having something like pity on her. None of her friends had seemed to notice her struggle. So he’d poured her some punch, found a straw, and even held it up so she could drink. 

They'd talked, not about anything specific or particularly profound, but it was nice. Granger was surprisingly easy-going, a good conversationalist, and she laughed at the jokes no one else even understood. She was confident, even while wearing that ridiculous costume, and he liked it. He liked her and he wanted more than their little talks. But knowing all that didn't mean he knew how to articulate it.

She laughed bitterly, drawing him from his thoughts. 

"The worst part was that no one,” She stabbed the air with her mug, punctuating her rant. “Not even those I tried to help, appreciated my efforts! But I'd always been told, since Fourth Year, that I was getting into things I didn't understand. Comments like those only spurred me forward because they hinted at what I'd learned—thanks to you—my second year. That I wasn't good enough, that I didn't deserve magic. Here again, I was shown to be an outsider." Hermione drew a shaky breath. "How arrogant I was, to think that I knew what they needed. That I had the answers for problems that have been around for centuries. What a waste of time." 

Hermione went to drink from her cup but paused, frowning deeply.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Empty." She jutted her bottom lip out like a child.

Draco just happened to have a bit of liquid courage in his back pocket, so he pulled it out and offered her a swig. 

Hermione stared at the hip flask a moment, her brow furrowed in indecision. “Just one.” She set her mug down on the balcony railing.

Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and he felt a cascade of tingles from the point of contact. He was again reminded of why he was doing this. Why he was risking their fledgling friendship and his pride. 

She took a swallow and returned the flask, coughing after the liquid burned a trail down her throat. “Merlin, that’s awful. And a bit … smoky. I suppose it gets the job done, though.”

Draco chuckled, tucking the flask back into his pocket. “That’s the point, Granger.”

“True.” Hermione looked at him, eyes light. “Was the spiked punch not strong enough for you?”

“Flitwick spiked it,” Draco said with a scoff. “It was probably just Butterbeer, or at worst, some of Trelawny’s cooking sherry.”

The right side of her lips quirked in a smile for a moment before slowly fading. She really must be having a bad day. They watched the snow fall for a few minutes in companionable silence. 

"Look, Granger. You did a lot of good things.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

He pushed off from the rail and turned to face her. "It's got nothing to do with growing up a Muggle. You simply cannot have rational conversations and negotiations with giants. It's not in their nature."

Hermione continued glaring at him, but he noticed a slight twitch to one side of her lips, hinting that she was fighting some kind of smile.

"They are who they are, just like we are," he continued. "And house-elves really do like what they do." She opened her mouth to refute, but Draco held up a hand to stall her, continuing. "But the ones who don't, you've helped. They can now speak for themselves and be paid for their work." As for the Centaurs, well, they don't think too highly of wizards, do they, yet Firenze is still here, splitting Divination with Trelawny, and sometimes his tribe mates come onto the grounds and speak to the students. That's a big step; it never happened while we were in school."

Her shoulders slumped, so he turned her to face him without thinking. "I mean it, Granger. You did all you could to make things more fair for other races. The ones that appreciate your hard work will benefit from it. I know you'll always be here to fight for them, and other people agree with you. They'll fight with you. _I’ll_ fight, if you need me.”

Tears shone in her wide, searching eyes. Draco nearly panicked—he’d never been good with tears—but he held onto her shoulders. 

"Do you really mean it?" she whispered.

He raised a hand, wiping a tear that had tracked down her cheek. His let his thumb linger a moment on her cheek, then dropped his arms to his side. “Of course I do, silly woman.”

Her expression was unreadable as she stared at him. She smiled a little, eyes still shining, and it really hit him how close they were. All he had to do was exhale, and the air would still be warm when she breathed it in. She seemed to perch forward on the tips of her toes, and then she was wrapping her arms around him. It was slow, hesitant almost, but deliberate. Finally, she rested her head against his chest. 

Draco was frozen in surprise, but only for a moment. Because she was warm and kind and smelled like fresh winter and chocolate and rum, and he felt so very right. Almost without thinking, he slid his arms around her and it was suddenly perfection, terrifying and brilliant.

He was afraid to breathe for fear it would all disappear, vanish like a puff of air. 

It was very real, however; he could feel one corner of the as yet unopened gift digging into his back. 

"Thank you, Malfoy,” she said, her voice muffled. “For being so nice.". 

"So long as you don't let on," he cautioned teasingly.

"No, I would never share your deep, dark secret." 

Draco could hear the smile in her voice, and he chuckled.

Hermione stayed there, in his arms, somewhat longer than he’d have expected for the situation. Not that he was complaining, of course. He’d imagined her in his arms more times than he could count. He knew that soon they’d have to part, but he also knew that he would not be the one to let go. Still, the seconds lengthened, and things could only get more intense the longer she remained so close to him. 

She must have sensed this too because she finally released him, averting her gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. "I should open your gift," she said in a soft murmur. Her fingers hesitated for just an instant, then she carefully untied the ribbon and removed the paper. When she saw the title, she blinked, then frowned slightly. " _The Care and Feeding of Fairies_.” Hermione turned the book over to scan the back. “‘The only book of its kind written by a fairy,’” she read, her voice trailing off. 

Draco watched her look at the book, his heart thudding in his chest. Hermione seemed far too interested in examining the back of the book, as though she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by putting it away too quickly.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “Don’t tell me you got me a fairy, Draco.” 

_Erm._

All right.

“Why would I do that?” He forced a fake smile, feigning nonchalance. 

She shrugged and went back to looking at the book. “Oh, ‘ _and other Legends_.’ So it’s not just a practical book.” Then she gave him a perfectly adequate smile. “Lovely, thank you, Draco.”

He felt quite sick. And he needed … air. Very different air than the stuff floating around her. Air that hadn’t been exhaled by her moments before, when he’d thought …. Well. He needed to leave. And drink more, alone. And … retrieve something.

“Right, well,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “You’re welcome. Enjoy … that.” The smile he forced felt all wrong and it hurt his cheeks. 

Naturally, she sensed something was off. Cocking her head slightly, she peered at him suspiciously. “What—”

Draco tweaked his expression so the smile wasn’t so much a grimace and pushed away from the balcony. “I will … leave you to your thoughts, then.”

Hermione’s expression was pure bewilderment. “Draco, wait.”

But he had already spun on his heel, hurrying toward the castle doors as if life itself required he put distance between them. Now he only had to beg the Fates that she wouldn’t follow him. Because she was the type to follow, to hound and question and beat a dead horse. And just at this moment, he couldn’t take it. He needed space, composure, time, and then he could fend off her questions. 

But first, some new air.

**ooo**

Hermione watched Draco go with a strange sinking sensation in her gut. She wanted to call him back, even opened her mouth to do so, but something about his stiff gait restrained her. Besides, she needed to work through what had just happened before she felt confident to approach him.

What _had_ happened? 

She thought they’d been enjoying each others' company. He’d been wonderful, actually, surprisingly sweet and considerate in the way he reassured her after learning she’d been sacked. He’d been just what she needed tonight. Though, truthfully, he’d been just what she’d needed all year. The right mix of friend, co-worker, even mentor. He had, after all, been teaching at the school five years before she'd arrived, and had proven to be a trustworthy and helpful colleague. 

And if she sometimes entertained the thought that maybe there was something a little more, who could blame her? At dinner on Halloween, he’d danced on the line between flirting and not. Since then, she’d been able to convince herself at times that he’d definitely shown interest; yet she could also look at the same conversation and see it in a different light. A just-friends light.

The way he’d held her just moments before had made her heart pound with anticipation. She was sure he had felt it despite the many layers between them, but he’d seemed unaffected. He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery doused with a heavy serving of confusion. 

Hermione shook her head; it wouldn’t do to dwell on what-ifs. She returned her attention to the book Draco had given her. Everything had changed when she opened his gift. She’d sensed the shift in the air, felt the tension seep from his pores. She turned it over a few times, hoping for a clue about why he suddenly seemed to want to be anywhere but near her. 

A gust of wind swept a fresh swath of snow onto the balcony, and Hermione shivered despite the Warming Charm. The very air had changed just before Draco walked away; it no longer felt as welcoming as it had. As though somehow the abrupt end to their conversation had offended it. 

Wrapping her cloak more tightly about her, she decided to go inside and head to her room. The idea of her warm bed and the new book was too appealing to pass up. 

Hermione deposited the empty mug in the staff room, where the party was still roaring with loud music, dancing, and merry-making. Once in the silent stone halls, she breathed easier, knowing she was finally free with her thoughts. She pulled the book out of her cloak pocket to read the dust jacket cover once more. 

As she rounded a corner, a startled voice interrupted her musing. ”Oh, Professor!”

Hermione looked up to find Eliza Banks, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, sitting in an alcove with a book open on her lap. 

“It’s after hours, I believe,” Hermione said tiredly. 

Eliza hurried to gather her things, but the moment her eyes darted to Hermione’s book, her expression became one of wonder and delight. “If you don't mind me prying, professor, how did you come by that book?”

Perplexed by the odd question, Hermione quickly peeked the cover again, as though something there might explain why it mattered. “My Secret Santa,” she replied.

Eliza sighed dreamily. “How romantic! Do you know who he is yet?”

Thoroughly confused, Hermione asked. “Romantic, you say? Why would you think such a thing?”

“Perhaps you've never heard the story,” Eliza began. “It's not a children's tale, exactly, but it’s almost like a legend because it’s so rare.”

Hermione showed the cover of the book to Eliza. “This book is a reference guide, not a storybook read to wizarding children."

Eliza nodded vigorously. “That’s just it, though. It’s not just a book—at least, usually. You see, fairies are so in love with love that they consent to be given as a token of affection in certain circumstances. The wizard—it’s usually a wizard, but a witch can give them as well, of course—gives the fairy to the witch he wants to be with. If the witch accepts the gift, the fairy blesses the couple, bestowing luck on them for a specific task.”

Quite suddenly, the air around Hermione was pressing in tightly, and she found it difficult to draw a full breath. 

“You didn’t know?” Eliza asked.

Hermione shook her head.

“It’s _extremely_ romantic,” Eliza continued, a dreamy expression in her eyes. “The wizard, as it would appear in your case, would have to go before the Queen of the Fairies and make a formal request. He would have to explain why he wanted the help of a fairy, why his situation deserved their consideration. As I said, they adore love, and people in love, and if a couple faces larger than typical obstacles to finding love, they help if they can. However, they are also very discerning in who they agree to help." She lost her starry-eyed mooning when Hermione didn't immediately answer. "Professor Granger? Is everything all right?”

At the sound of her name, Hermione “Yes. All is well. Thank you for the information and your concern. Now, hurry back to your room before someone else catches you and docks House points.”

The girl did as directed, leaving Hermione alone in the near-silent castle, the only sound the very faint pulsing coming from the staff room. She dropped into the alcove Eliza had just vacated with a weary sigh. 

The book by itself didn’t really mean anything. It was a fairy that signified more. She looked at the book, specifically the title. Why would he give her a book about caring for a fairy unless …. 

But Draco hadn’t given her a fairy, just the book. Just the book. Right? 

If she _had_ known the story about fairies, then the book would have clued her in when she’d opened it. 

Hermione groaned at her own mistake. She had said the worst possible thing to him, _joking_ about him getting her a fairy!

Though, Draco had only given her the book. There’d been no brightly wrapped fairy. Of course, she couldn’t imagine a fairy consenting to be covered with paper and ribbon. If a wizard were going to give a witch a fairy, where would he do it? 

Hermione could only think that if she’d known the significance of the book, Draco would have taken her to the fairy. She had to find him. The Marauder’s Map was tucked safely in her room, a gift from Harry when she’d taken the post. 

She rushed to her quarters, hands shaking as she spoke her password and pushed the door open. The map was in the trunk at the food of her bed, but she gasped as she entered the living area. The lights were off, but a string of fairy lights were strung over the mantle of her small fireplace. At the center of the string was a large, round globe, and inside the globe danced a glittering fairy. All of the fairies were beautiful, but this one, her gift, was magnificently arrayed. She twinkled, sending rays of brilliant light into every corner of the room. It was a breathtaking display.

“Oh, Draco,” she whispered, her hand on her heart.

“Bloody nuisance, fairies.”

Hermione spun around, astonished to discover Draco right behind her. Her heart thudded in her ribcage at his nearness. He appeared decidedly uncomfortable, hands shoved in his pockets and scowling at a spot on the wall beside her head. He looked as if he wished the air in the hall would collapse in on him. 

“You really shouldn’t let them in your room, Gr—”

She kissed him. Because apparently he’d done the most romantic thing a wizard could possibly do for a woman, for _her_ , and she refused to let him off the hook for it. 

Draco tensed, and she wondered if she’d misinterpreted the whole night and the significance of his gift, but then he pulled his hands out of his pockets and took her face in his hands, stepping forward to back her against the wall beside her door. The kiss was slow, delicious torture as he controlled the pace, tasting her lips, her tongue, her breath, her essence. He nipped, suckled, teased her, driving her nearly mad yet just rightly so. 

Surely there had never been such a perfect first kiss in the history of first kisses. 

Hermione felt Draco's fingers move over the skin of her cheeks. It was fire and ice and twinkling lights, and she found herself wanting more just as he started to pull away. She reached for him, grabbed his shirt to keep him from getting away. Instead of leaving, he rested his forehead on hers, the air between them mixed and electric.

His eyes were still closed for a moment, so she allowed herself the luxury of studying his face. She had never imagined being so close to him, and right at that moment, she thought she could stare at him for hours and still not drink her fill of memorizing him. 

Abruptly, his eyes opened, meeting her searching gaze. 

“What was that?” he asked, searching her face. 

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted the moment, and Hermione felt like a fifth year caught out after curfew. She felt her cheeks turn red, and Draco’s eyes danced with mirth as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into her room.

“That was close!” she said, laughing at her ridiculousness. 

“It wouldn’t do to be caught out so soon.” He gently rubbed her hand with his thumb.

At that moment, the events of the last few minutes caught up to Hermione. They were standing in her living area, holding hands in the near dark after a brilliant snog in the corridor of the staff wing. It was by far the last thing she’d ever expected to happen the night before Christmas.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Why were you outside my room?”

Draco shrugged. “I asked a house-elf to hang the fairy lights and Alvara. I’d hoped to somehow get in here and remove them before you found them, but I couldn’t think of how to get in your quarters.”

“Alvara?” she repeated, her eyes going straight to the shining globe. At his affirming nod, she attempted to explain. “I didn’t know anything about fairies until a few minutes ago. I mean, I knew of their existence, but I had never heard the lore surrounding them.” 

Merlin, now Eliza would know what he’d done, and she doubted Draco wanted that sort of information made public. She would have to ensure Eliza’s silence. 

Tomorrow.

Draco shook his head with a chuckle. “It never crossed my mind that you _wouldn’t_ know. You know everything.” 

She wanted to protest his claim, but he distracted her by grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to the fairy lights. . It would take some getting used to, this being more familiar with him. “Alvara is the name of your fairy,” he said.

Hermione was again amazed at just how lovely the lights and especially her fairy were. She neared the strand, taking the time to really look, and she was surprised to see that the globe was a tiny suite for the fairy, complete with a miniature bed, dresser, and mirror. She’d always enjoyed the strings of fairy lights twinkling on the enormous Christmas trees throughout the castle during the holiday season. Fairies were magical creatures, just as house-elves were, but she’d never given any thought to their lives before. For some reason, she’d never taken the time to notice each fairy or think about their lives. Why were they content to simply sit on strings and sparkle for people’s enjoyment? She resolved to answer her questions and learn as much about fairies as she possibly could while having one living with her.

Draco cleared his throat, and Hermione took a moment to drink him in, the dancing lights reflected in his eyes. 

“Alvara,” he began, addressing the beautiful, sparkling fairy. “This is Hermione. Hermione, Alvara.”

The fairy known as Alvara curtsied with perfect grace. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in a clear, tiny voice. “Draco has told me much about you, your past, and his hopes for your future.”

“It’s lovely to meet you as well,” Hermione replied, feeling somewhat awe-struck at truly encountering this race for the first time. 

Alvara gave her a serene smile, then pulled out a wand. It was tiny, with a little star at the top, just like Muggles envisioned fairies often carried around with them—though it was made of wood, not pink plastic. “Now to the happy business. But first, do you have any questions?”

Hermione glanced at Draco, suspecting he wouldn’t appreciate the hundred or so queries vying for prominence in her mind just then. However, he _did_ seem to understand from her look that she desired more information. 

“Would you explain to Hermione what happens next?” he politely asked the fairy.

Alvara beamed and spun around inside her tiny home, flapping her iridescent wings. “Oh, what joy, what rapture! I would be honoured. You see, Hermione, I am something like your Luck Potion. I can grant the both of you luck on some venture or task. Many couples ask for luck conceiving, or for a perfect joining day, but you may ask for anything. And remember, ‘tis only luck, guiding your steps. From the moment you accept Draco’s gift, you have twenty-four hours to make your request.”

Hermione nodded, taking it all in. A stop in the library would most certainly be required before they decided what to ask for. 

“All that remains now is to have your answer, Hermione,” Alvara concluded. “Do you accept Draco’s gift?”

She looked up to find him smiling nervously. Taking his hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. When she turned back to Alvara, she laced their fingers together. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”


End file.
